


...But It Works

by sydiy5bea



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Brotherhood, Familial Relationships, Gen, Mentorship, Parallels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydiy5bea/pseuds/sydiy5bea
Summary: Parallels between Sam and Sully's relationships with Nate.





	1. The Beginning

"Come on, Nathan. It's just up these stairs."

Sam leads the way into a rather shady looking apartment building sitting in a questionable part of town. Nathan shivers against a non-existent breeze, mind wandering back to the old mansion as he climbs the rickety steps. He keeps reminding himself of what Sam had said under the bridge only twenty minutes ago: there was nothing they could have done. Nathan sighs and shakes the thoughts away as Sam unlocks his door.

"Home sweet home, little brother."

"More like home smelly home," he mutters. "What died in here?"

"What, is my life style beneath you, good sir?" Sam chuckles, locking the multiple (old, rusty) locks on the front door behind them.

"No but... god, how do you stand it?"

"Eh, you get used to it after a while. I hardly even notice it anymore."

"Uh-huh."

"'Uh-huh' nothing. I can smell your sweaty ass from here. Go shower."

Nathan rolls his eyes, then points out, "I don't have a change of clothes."

"Then borrow some of mine. We can get you some more tomorrow. Now, go shower. Don't want any open cuts getting infected. I've barely enough change laying around to make rent, let alone a doctor's visit."

"Okay, fine. But if you try to give me a bedtime, I'm walking right out that door."

"Yeah, right. Get a move on, smart ass."

Nathan snickers as he throws Sam's loaned denim jacket over the patched up couch. He raids Sam's dresser for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. They're big, but they'll serve their purpose. Nathan locks the door to the grimy bathroom and starts the water. It gets hot quickly, causing steam to accumulate. He takes his time with the shower. He closes his eyes and lets the water wash away the day. In the orphanage, they were only allowed five minutes of running water. Tonight, Nathan takes ten minutes because why the hell not.

Feeling much more fresh and relaxed, a clean Nathan drops down besides Sam on the couch in front of the TV. After a few seconds in silence, listening to the announcers chatter about the game, Nathan asks, "How do you have enough money to afford cable if you can't afford deodorant?"

Sam glares at him out of the corner of his eye. Nathan has just enough time to lift an arm in defense before Sam presses his little brother down onto the couch cushions, using his weight to hold him in place. "What was that again? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how dumb you look."

"Sam! Sam, stop! That's cheating!" Nathan gasps, pressing against Sam's arms.

"Cheating? There's no cheating in brotherly intimidation."

Nathan laughs as Sam shakes him a little before letting him up. The younger Mor... er, Drake retaliates with a petty jab to his brother's shoulder. Sam doesn't even react. "It's good to have you here, Nathan," Sam says, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I missed having you around."

"Me too," Nathan sighs, leaning into his brother's embrace for a few seconds. "It was lonely in the orphanage without you. Nobody to talk to."

"What about Noah? He wasn't fostered, was he?"

"Nah, we just... went our separate ways. He changed after he came back from Jesus summer camp."

"Sorry to hear that, bud. But, hey, look on the bright side: you probably would have driven him off with that hair cut of yours anyways."

Nathan untangles himself from his brother's arms to run a hand through his damp hair. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"I don't know. It just looks... messy."

"Oh, you're one to talk."

"My hair is artfully 'mussed', thank you very much. The ladies love it."

"Uh-huh, sure. Girls love animals, so they're bound to be attracted to the bird's nest."

Sam flips the TV off, then turns to say with a smirk, "Alright, that's it. Come 'ere you!"

Nathan pushes off the couch in a hurry, darting towards the kitchen. He doesn't get very far, as he's soon lifted off the ground for the second time that night. "Argh! Sam, let me down!"

"Take it back!" Sam tosses his brother a little higher over his shoulder and begins making his way back to his bedroom.

"Never!"

"Say my hair is perfect, and this will all be over."

"My hair is perfect!" Nathan yells, then squeaks as Sam drops him on the bed.

"Smart ass," Sam says, giving his little brother a well deserved noogie.

"Jerk wad," Nathan mumbles once Sam lets him go.

Sam laughs as he stands. "You can take the bed. You've had a long night."

"Sam, it's your bed. I'll take the couch. I really don't mind."

"Not on my watch."

"But Sam-"

"No buts. I'll see you in the morning. Or... later in the morning," he adds from the doorway. Sam smiles then flips the lights off.

Nathan sighs at his brother's stubborn insistence on treating him like a little kid. He crawls under the covers and curls up on his side, eyes wide open. He can't close them. Every time he closes them, he sees the old woman (Evelyn, he thinks) laying still and pale on the ground. Why couldn't he just move on like Sam could? One of the few things he remembers Mom telling him was, "You have such a big heart for such a little boy." And as time moves on, her voice gets fainter. Is it even her voice anymore? What did she even look like? She had brown eyes and dark hair for sure, but... what about her nose? Did she have freckles like he did? And what about her smile? Was it toothy like his or more of smirk like Sam's?

The longer Nathan thought about her, the stronger the pang in his heart grew. The digital clock on the bedside table ticks through an entire hour before he slips out of bed. He can't help but wince at the sun already peeking above the horizon. "Sam," he whispers, poking his brother's arm.

"Hm?" Sam groans, rubbing his eyes. "You're already up?"

"No, I uh... I actually... can't sleep."

"Oh." Sam pushes himself into a sitting position. "Come on, take a seat." Nathan does as he's told, and Sam covers him with the blanket then takes him in under his arm. "What's on your mind, little brother?"

"I don't know..."

"Yes, you do. Spit it out. It's just me."

"I just... can't stop thinking about that woman at the mansion. What if we scared her so much, we gave her a heart attack?"

"Nathan-"

"Or what if she wasn't dead, and we just left her laying there all alone?"

"Nathan, the police-"

"Or what if-?"

"You can't get caught up on the what ifs, little brother. It happened, and there was nothing we could have done about it."

"But Sam-"

"What did I say about buts? We did what we had to do to get out of there. I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life in prison. You don't gotta feel bad about it."

Nathan yawns and leans his head on his brother's shoulder.

"Alright, just close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. What matters is we're alive. And from now on, I'll be the one taking care of you. You don't gotta worry about a thing. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

"Ditto, big brother."

Sam laughs softly and hugs his brother a little tighter for few seconds. "Didn't you want to get some sleep? Hush up and close your eyes, numbskull."


	2. Another Beginning

Nate gazes out the cab window, lost in thought. He rubs the ring hanging around his neck, mostly just to give his hands something to do. He doesn't want to fidget in front of, um... Sullivan. The man seems kind, but Nate's never really been the best at judging character.

The cab pulls to a stop in front of a looming building. Nate gasps as they step out of the car. "You're staying here?" he asks, casting a disbelieving look to his left side.

"Yeah, why?" the older man counters in his gruff baritone.

"Well, it's... nicer than I expected."

"Should I take that as a compliment, or...?"

Nate glances up to find the man smirking down at him. Huh. He was expecting a glare. Nate decides now is not the time to test the waters with sarcasm, however, and simply says, "Let's just go inside."

"Alright, whatever you say."

The boy pretends not to be impressed at the decadence of the hotel lobby. He doesn't want the man to label him as some sort of street rat who's never slept in a bed before. While half of that statement in accurate, he'd rather not show any weakness.

They make their way to the room in silence. If anyone finds it odd that an older man (with a huge mustache) has a kid that looks nothing like him trailing behind, no one speaks up.

Nate's new acquaintance heads straight for the mini fridge. He turns around with a beer in hand to find that Nate is still standing just outside the doorway, trying to keep his face from betraying the multitude of feelings running through him.

"You can come in and take a seat, kid. Kick up your feet. You've had a long day. Watch some TV or something," the older man says, gesturing around the room.

"Okay." Nate makes his way into the room, carefully avoiding the man's eyes. He perches on the edge of the couch, and picks up the TV remote. His senses are on high alert as he flips through channels. He hears the man making his way towards him and Nate desperately tries to remember what all Sam had taught him about self defense, but he relaxes when the man collapses into the arm chair facing the screen.

Nate eventually settles with a soccer game, commentated on in Spanish. He looks over at the man, and asks, "Is this okay?"

"Whatever you want, boy-o. Although I've gotta admit, I don't speak Spanish."

"Well, I can change it if-"

"No, no, it's fine. I can tell what's happening." After a sizable gap in the conversation, the man says, "I didn't realize you were fluent in Spanish, too. What, are you up to three languages now?"

"Uh, four actually. I also know Portuguese."

"What are you, some kind of super genius?"

Nate snickers and shakes his head. "Nah, I'm just a fast learner, I guess. I'm better with history, geography, and stuff like that. I can't do math to save my life."

"Same here, kid. You wouldn't believe how many times I had to repeat algebra in high school."

The boy hums, not wanting to comment further on the subject of school.

A few minutes of silence pass, then the man asks, "Do you want to shower?"

"Um, sure," Nate says, lurching off the couch.

"Oh wait, you don't have a change of clothes on you."

"It's okay, I can just wear what I'm wearing now," Nate quickly says, pushing the bathroom door open.

"No, no, no. You can borrow some of mine for tonight. We can get you some more tomorrow back in the States."

"It's alright, really."

"Kid, I insist. No offense, but your shirt's so thin, I can practically see through it." He makes his way to the duffel bag sitting on the bed. He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then tosses them across the room into Nate's waiting arms. "They're gonna be a little big, but they'll serve their purpose."

"Okay. Um, thanks." Nate turns and presses the rest of the way into the bathroom. He quickly locks the door behind him. The man hasn't tried anything yet, but he might have just been waiting for Nate to let his guard down.

Nate slips Drake's ring off and lays it on the counter before stepping out of the rest of his clothes. He stands under the hot water for ten minutes, forehead pressed up against the tiled wall. What a day. The ring, the witch, and now a man claiming he can teach him a few things. Wait until Sam hears about this.

The boy steps out the bathroom, trying not to meet the man's gaze. The clothes he was given hang off his frame, making him seem even smaller than he already is. "Wow, you clean up good, kid. Almost didn't recognize you without that layer of grime covering your face."

Nate smiles a small smile as he sits at the small table where his bag's laying. A quick check shows that everything is where it should be.

"Feel better?" the man asks, a little softer than before.

He nods.

"Alrighty then. My turn."

Nate resists the urge to go through the man's duffel after he hears the lock click. He refrains, however, and concentrates on his notes. If the man trusted him enough not to check his bag, Nate would repay him the favor. The hotel room is silent save for the muffled sound of the shower running and his pencil scratching against a fresh page. Silent until the bathroom door opens again.

The boy glances up from his work when he hears footsteps making their way over to the table. He takes a calming breath once he sees curiosity instead of malice in the man's eyes. He stops at the table and peers over Nate's shoulder. "What'cha working on there, son?" he asks, realizing his mistake a second too late.

"I told you before, don't call me that," Nate bites out, slamming his journal closed. 

The man take a step back, holding his hands up. "Okay, okay, sorry. It won't happen again."

Either from the way the man automatically knew he was in the wrong or from the look of sincerity on his face, Nate sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, it's alright. It's been a long day for the both of us. How 'bout we hit the hay?"

"Sure."

The man, Sullivan, moves his duffel to the table and says, "You can take the bed, kid. You've had a rough day."

"You sure? 'Cause I really don't mind-"

"Nate. Please."

He timidly moves to the bed and tries not to let it show how surprised he is that Sullivan remembered his name. "Okay. Thanks, I guess."

"It's no biggie, kid. I'd bet good money that I have more experience sleeping on shitty couches than you have."

Again with the jokes. Maybe it's time for... "Yeah you would, judging by the wrinkles and bags under your eyes."

Nate's heart is in his throat as Sullivan laughs. "Yeah, yeah, just get some sleep."

Feeling a lot lighter, Nate laughs with him as he climbs under the covers. He settles on his side with a sigh. What a day...

He stiffens as Sullivan's voice floats from the couch. "Goodnight, Nate."

"'Night," Nate mutters back, sleep already pulling at him. But he knows it's no use. No matter how tired he gets, he continues to see her and her gussy-uped agents every time he closes his eyes. Nate fiddles with Drake's ring as he listens to Sullivan snore on the couch, and finally allows himself to indulge in the sweet feelings of success and accomplishment. He wonders what his mother would have said. Then he wonders what Sam's going to say. Both about the ring and Nate's... current predicament. 

Yeah, Sullivan's different from Sam, but... this could work. This could definitely work. He'll stick around, picking up new tricks and making some cash until Sam gets out of prison. Or until Sullivan tries to pull something on him. But if he was going to do something, he's had ample opportunity to do it already. He would have done it by now... right?


	3. Sick

Nathan sniffles as Sam hands him a steaming cup of... "Tea?" he says, crinkling his nose in distaste. "I wanted-"

"Hot chocolate, I know," Sam sighs. "But this will help your immune system fight off the germs. I put a little honey in it to sweeten it up for you."

"But Sam-"

"But nothing. Now, hush up before you hurt your throat even more. I'm going out to pick up some medicine from the store."

Nathan grunts and slouches further into the couch. At least the warm mug feels good against his cold hands. He was shivering before Sam had covered him in blankets.

"I'll be back soon," Sam says, grabbing his jacket. "That tea had better be gone by the time I'm back."

The door shuts and about thirty seconds later, Nathan hears the motorbike revving up outside. He puts the tea down and picks up the TV remote. He'll never understand his brother's fascination with cop shows. Instead he settles on reruns of the Odd Couple for background noise as he sketches in the notebook Sam had bought him a few weeks back. It's only when he hears a key jiggling in the lock does he remember the tea. He throws his notebook to the side and takes three big gulps. There's still a good amount of tea left, but it at least looks like he tried.

"I'm back, little brother."

Nathan simply gives him a wave over the couch, so as not to aggravate his throat.

"I got you some meds. I apologize in advance for the flavor. They only had grape."

The younger Drake groans and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. You're turning thirteen in a few weeks for godssakes."

Nathan rolls his eyes and accepts the tablespoon from his older brother. He swallows it all in one gulp, making sure to prominently display his disgust. "Water," he croaks out.

"You can chase it with your tea. I see you haven't finished it yet."

"Sa-am..." he whines.

"Na-than..." Sam says with the same inflection, meant to mock.

"I hate you." He breaks out coughing at the end of the phrase, and Sam laughs.

"Instant karma, little brother."

Nathan sticks his tongue out at his brother's receding figure.

"You'll probably get drowsy soon," Sam says, reading the label on the medicine bottle. "Do you want to head off to the bedroom? You might be more comfortable there."

He shakes his head no. The amount of blankets he has should be enough if he does happen to fall asleep.

"Alrighty then." Sam sits next to the sick boy on the couch and tucks him under his arm in their customary embrace. "You'd better not get me sick."

Nathan smirks and rubs his nose on his brother's shoulder.

Sam groans and pretends to knock Nathan upside the head. "Joke's on you. If I get sick, you'll be the one taking care of me."

Nathan rolls his eyes and shifts so that the blankets are pulled up to his chin. His eyelids are starting to droop.

"Do you mind if I switch the channel?" Sam asks, remote already pointed at the screen. "I think the game's on."

Nathan shrugs as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam speaks up. "I think I kind of like when you can't speak. It's a whole lot more peaceful around here."

Silence.

Sam looks down. "Nathan?"

His little brother's eyes are closed after losing the battle to sleep. He breathes slowly and deeply, totally down for the count.

"Sleep tight, little brother. I'll be right here if you need anything."


	4. Sick Again

Nate sits at the old desk in the room Sully gave him to sleep in. The sound of the scratching of pencil on paper fills the room. Sully's in the living room, probably watching TV. Nate sniffs, rubs his nose, then goes back to work. The teen coughs lightly, feeling a tickle in the back of his throat. He sighs and hauls himself out of his chair to go for a glass of water, ignoring the pounding behind his forehead. Nate passes the worn couch, and Sully does a double take. "Damn, you look like like crap."

"A simple 'good morning' would have sufficed," Nate rasps, then clears his throat. He didn't realize how much mucus was sitting in his lungs. He bends down to retrieve a glass from the cabinet. His face scrunches when he straightens up, pressure compounding in his skull.

Sully, who watched the whole scene, motions Nate over. "Come here, kid. I want to check something."

Nate sighs and places his glass on the counter. He shuffles over and allows Sully to place a hand on his forehead. The tickle in his throat continues to bother him, but he refuses to cough in front of Sully.

"Well, considering you have a high fever and a killer headache, I'd say you've got some sort of bug or virus."

Nate shakes his head while trying not to wince. "No, I'm fine. Just... tired, I guess."

"Kid, you've got bags the size of Texas hanging under your eyes. You're sick. Come sit down."

"No, I'm not." He tries to keep himself from coughing, but his body betrays him.

"Mm hm. Take a seat, boy-o. I think I've got something that can help."

Nate just stands in place as Sully moves into the bathroom. He hears cabinets and drawers opening and closing. He can't deny he feels like crap, but he doesn't want Sully to take care of him. He and Sully have been getting along these past three weeks, and he feels like he can trust him. But he's still afraid to show weakness. He doesn't want to be seen as some sort of charity case, a child who can't take care of himself. He wants to be seen as an equal. A partner. Getting sick is not helping his image.

"Nate, go sit on the couch. I'll bring your medicine over in just a second."

"I will. I'm gonna grab my books in case I get bored."

"I'll get those for you. Please, just have a seat. You look flushed."

Nate clears his throat, then quietly says, "Okay." He carefully sits and leans his head back against the couch. Ugh, why does it have to hurt so much?

"Here you go, kid."

Nate grabs the offered tablespoon, then scrunches his nose in disgust at the purple hue. "Grape?"

Sully laughs. "Don't like the flavor?"

"It's horrid."

"Drink up, kid. It'll make you feel better. I'll get you something to wash it down with."

Nate swallows it quickly. "Yuck," he croaks as he hands his spoon back.

The older man chuckles and deposits the spoon in the sink. He returns with a glass of water. "To you want a sticker for being so brave?" he teases.

"Shut up," Nate says, tilting the glass to his lips. When he's finished, he hands back the glass, then coughs and rubs his arms. His hair is standing on end and there's goosebumps going all the way up his back.

"I'll grab you some blankets. And your books."

Nate thanks Sully after he returns with an entire comforter. "I'll put your books on the side table, but you should probably sleep. It's the best medicine."

"Nah, I'm not that tired."

"Okay then," Sully chuckles, taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

Nate busies himself with tucking the comforter around him like a cocoon while Sully flips the channel from some football game to Seinfeld. "You didn't have to change it for me," he rasps, after attempting to clear his throat.

"No, no. If you're not gonna be sleeping, might as well watch something you want to watch. Maybe it'll alleviate your headache some."

The teen shrugs and scoots over so he can rest his head on the arm rest. He stretches his legs out, flinching and recoiling some when he accidentally presses against Sully's legs. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"It's alright, kid. I don't mind. Others have done much worse on this couch," he says, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"Okay, ew."

"Trust me when I say you don't wanna know how many times I've missed during-"

"Lalalala, I can't hear you!" Nate says, sticking his fingers in his ears.

Sully laughs, then tosses over a pillow from his side of the couch. "Here. This way your neck won't ache after you wake up."

"Will I get an STD if I lay my head on this?"

He laughs again, then rubs a hand over Nate's covered shins. "What you don't know won't kill you."

"Gross," Nate hisses, resting his head on the pillow anyway. He almost wants to pull his legs away from Sully's reach. Almost. The warmth of Sully's hand actually feels kind of nice. He'll allow contact as long as Sully doesn't go near his feet. Nate's ticklish there, and any kicks to the face are purely involuntary reactions.

"If you think that's gross, wait 'til I tell you what happened on your bed."

Nate tries to respond, but ends up coughing instead.

"Well, since there's no objections..."

"Sully!"


	5. Girlfriend

Nathan happily munches on his churro as he makes his way back to his and Sam’s apartment. He had just enough money left over at the end of the weekly allowance (courtesy of Sam, of course) for the treat. Nathan wipes his hand on his jacket before reaching into his pocket for his keys. “Sam, I’m back!” he calls out as he swings the door open. After finding the couch and kitchen area empty, he heads down the hallway to the bedroom. “Sam?” He presses the bedroom door open slowly in case his brother was sleeping. Nothing. He’s not in the bathroom either. Hm.

Nathan drops down on the couch and picks up the remote. Might as well make the most of it. He won’t start worrying until after the sun goes down.

He makes it through about two and half episodes of Star Trek before he hears Sam’s bike pull up outside. “Finally,” Nathan sighs, turning around to peer over the back of the couch as the front door opens. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Uh… out and about,” Sam says, ushering someone else inside the apartment. Some girl.

Nathan’s eyes widen as he stands quickly from his place on the couch. “Who’s this?”

“This is Helen. My, uh, girlfriend,” he adds to address the look he’s getting.

“Hello,” she waves while hanging off of Sam.

“Girlfriend? You never told-“

“You she was so beautiful? Yeah, I wanted you to see her for yourself. Isn’t she just like how I told you she was?” Sam raises his eyebrows in a meaningful matter.

Nathan sighs, knowing what his brother wants. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous, just like you told me.” Even though he had never mentioned her once.

“Aw, you’re too much,” she blushes, then turns to Sam. “Your brother looks just like you. He’s adorable. I could just eat him up.”

“Mm, I could just eat you up,” Sam leans and catches her mouth with his.

Nathan crinkles his nose in disgust and flips around to face the TV again. How could Sam choose tonight of all nights to bring a girl over? Friday night was their night to hang out together. It was the one night of the week Sam had promised to never take a job or… do something like this.

Sam brings his girl over to the couch, and Nathan’s forced to squeeze up against the arm rest to keep Helen from kicking him when Sam tickles her. They end up watching some rom-com because “what the lady wants, the lady gets” as Sam says. Nathan doesn’t even know why she cares since she and Sam spend the whole time whispering and giggling to each other, occasionally sucking face. When more than fifty percent of the time was spent sucking face, Nathan knew this was his cue to leave. As he lay in bed, he tried not to think about what was probably happening in the other room.

The next morning, Nathan takes his time getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to accidentally walk in on an early morning… session. He finds the two sitting at the table, hair and clothes in disarray. Nathan tries to quietly start the coffee machine without Sam noticing, but he lifts his head from nuzzling Helen’s face to scold him. “Ah, ah, ah. What do you think you’re doing, little man? Didn’t I just tell you a couple of days ago you’re not allowed to have coffee?”

“Please, Sam? Just one? I had a rough night.”

“I said no. The caffeine will have you bouncing off the walls. Now, put the mug back.”

He growls and slams the mug on the counter. “Whatever,” he hisses, storming back to the bedroom.

“Nathan wait,” Sam calls after him, but he waves him off.

“Nah, I’ll just wait until she leaves. I wouldn’t want to tear you away from your dearly beloved.”

“Nathan! Apologize.”

“Oh, now you pay attention to me? Forget it. I’m going out. I’ll be back before the sun goes down.”

“Nathan-“

“Don’t ‘Nathan’ me. Goodbye.”

Nathan slams the door behind him and shrugs his coat on before stepping outside. The temperature dropped last night. He hears someone thundering down the steps and simply rolls his eyes. “Nathan, stop.”

He slowly turns around to face his brother. Sam’s teeth are chattering because the dummy forgot to wear a jacket. “What?”

“What’s up with you? You upset about Helen or something?”

“What tipped you off?” he snorts, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was thoroughly enjoying seeing his brother freeze his ass off. Serves him right.

“Was it because I didn’t tell you she was coming?”

“Yeah, for starters! You brought a girl home on Friday night. That’s our night.”

“Well, I figured we could take a break for a week. Life was getting boring, right?”

Nathan scowls and whispers, “No.” He turns on his heel and stalks away so Sam can’t see the tears collecting in his eyes.

“No, Nathan, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, jogging to catch up with his brother.

Nathan spins around. “How the hell was I supposed to take that?” he yells, a tear dripping against his will.

“Hey, hey, chin up, little brother. I really didn’t mean it like that.” Sam uses the thin sleeve of his shirt to dry the stray tear. “And I didn’t realize how much Helen upset you. I won’t bring her over again, okay?”

Nathan pushes his brother’s hand away, sniffling some. “I don’t care if she comes over, Sam. You don’t even have to give me a heads up, although it would be appreciated. It just… hurt that you chose her over me. Friday nights are our thing, you know? I look forward to hanging out with you, and sometimes it’s the only time in the week we get to. I guess you don’t feel the same way.”

“Oh, Nathan.” Sam pulls his brother in for a hug. “I’m sorry. That was a dick move. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t think you cared all that much about our Friday nights.”

Nathan sniffles again, squeezing harder. “No, I’m sorry Sam. I shouldn’t have snapped at you back there. I’m just being dramatic.”

“No, no, if Friday night means that much to you, it’ll mean that much to me. It’ll be just us from now on. And Nathan? No matter what, I will always choose you. Okay? Just because I brought Helen over on a Friday doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. No more girls on Friday night, I promise.”

Sam releases Nathan as he starts to laugh. “Thanks, big brother.”

“No problem, squirt. Now what’dya say we go back inside where it’s warm, hm? I’ll let you have some coffee to warm you up.”

“Sure!” Nathan files through the doorway as Sam holds the door for him. “Just as long as you never call me squirt again.”

“Why not? I think it fits you.”

“I’m not that small.”

“Sure you are.” Before Nathan can say anything, Sam picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder.

“Sam!” he yells, pounding his fist on his brother’s back. “You are so immature.”

Nathan just sighs and allows the inevitable to happen as his brother climbs the steps. Helen just laughs as Sam dumps him on the couch. Sam rustles his brother’s hair before making two steaming cups of coffee.


	6. Going Out

"For the lady," Sully says, holding the bar door open for Nate.

Nate rolls his eyes and passes through the doorway. "Cool it, Romeo. We're just going to meet a contact, not 'get lucky'."

"Eh, we'll see what happens by the end of the night." Sully waves at the bartender to grab his attention.

The bartender smiles and greets what Nate's assuming is his friend. "Sullivan! How have you been? Staying out of trouble, I hope."

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

The men laugh, and the bartender meets eyes with Nate. "Who's this?" he asks, giving him a once over.

"This is my partner, Nate," Sully says. Nate smiles and waves a little.

"Is he... yours?" he asks hesitantly.

"No!" the pair say in unison.

Nate clears his throat and looks down awkwardly as Sully explains, "No, he's not... mine. We met in Colombia a few months back. I'm teaching him the tricks of the trade."

"Oh. Okay then," the guy shrugs. "I already know what you like to drink, Sullivan. What about the boy? Apple juice?"

The bartender laughs at his own joke as Nate sets his jaw. Sully wisely remains silent as he sees the kid's fists clench. "I'm more of a chocolate milk kind of guy," Nate grinds out between his teeth.

The man laughs even harder at this, relieving some of the tension in the teen's frame. "Alright, I think I got just the thing for ya. Give me a minute."

He disappears through the door to the kitchen. Sully smirks as Nate huffs in indignation. "What?" he snips at the quirk in the older man's mustache.

"Nothing, kid. Let's find a place to sit and wait for our contact."

Nate sketches and Sully lights a cigar while they wait. The teen startles a little when the bartender places two glasses on the table. "I don't think I have to tell you which is which," he says.

The bartender and Sully laugh while Nate tries and fails not to smirk. The man had brought Sully a tall glass of beer and Nate a tall glass of something chocolaty topped off with whipped cream. "Thanks," Nate says truthfully. "That looks... awesome."

"It's no problem. Any friend of Sullivan is a friend of mine. Have a good night you two."

"Make that three," comes a feminine voice from behind the bartender. She steps out and takes a seat at the table, not acknowledging the three shameless stares she's receiving. "I'll have what the boy's having. It's my cheat day."

"Uh, certainly ma'am. Coming right up." The bartender hurries away with purpose. Nate has a feeling she won't even need to open a tab by the way the man's acting.

Once he's gone, she turns to Sully. "Hello, Victor. Long time, no see."

"McKenzie," Sully says, giving her a wary glance. "I certainly wasn't expecting you, considering we were supposed to be meeting with a Tony."

"Well, plans change, don't they?" She flips around in her seat to look over at Nate taking some of the whipped cream off his drink with his finger. "Speaking of changed plans... Who are you?"

Nate wipes his finger on his pants then holds out his hand. "Nathan Drake."

Sully rolls his eyes as she shakes his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drake. McKenzie Holland."

"Well, now that we're all acquainted, let's get down to business," Sully interjects. "What's the job?"

McKenzie reaches into her jacket and pulls out a pair of files. "These contain all the relevant information concerning your job. I'm just the courier."

"What, Tony couldn't be bothered to meet with us in person?"

"No, he's just very shy and happens to be very rich."

"Ah, so the eccentric type."

"Exactly."

Nate flips through one of the files and stifles a gasp. He quickly looks up to make eye contact with Sully, but finds he's infatuated with the girl. God, can't he go two minutes without staring some poor chick down? Nate kicks Sully's chin under the table and raises his eyebrows in a significant manner once he has his attention. "Uh, could you give me and my partner a few minutes to discuss alone, please?"

"Of course. I'll be at the bar when you're ready." She winks, then leaves the table.

As soon as she's out of ear shot, Nate asks, "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"The blatant 'do-me' eyes."

Sully chuckles then takes a sip of his beer. "Don't worry about it, kid. I know what I'm doing."

Nate rolls his eyes, then continues, "Anyway, I know what this is, and Tony's not giving us nearly enough..."

He goes through his speech, and they come to an agreement. Sully waves the woman back over, toting her chocolaty drink. "You called?"

"So, we've come to the conclusion that-" Sully starts, but is interrupted by McKenzie.

"Wait, 'we'? I didn't realize that... I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Nate."

"Right. I didn't realize you and Nate were... partners. I thought this was more of a babysitting type gig."

Nate opens his mouth for a retort, but Sully quickly talks over him. "No, Nate's the brains of the operation. I'm the muscle. We're a team."

The kid beams at Sully, grateful for him coming to his defense. Nate likes the sound of 'team' much better than 'apprentice'. McKenzie looks Nate up and down critically, before shrugging and business goes on from there. Sully gets her to offer them double what they promised, so the two walk out of the bar with a spring in their step.


	7. Stranger Danger

Sam passes the bottle of soda over to Nathan per his request. They were having a quiet night in, a rarity nowadays. Nathan takes a bite of his pizza as Sam asks, "So how do you feel about heading out of town next weekend? I've got a deal lined up with a guy in Chicago if you're up for it."

Nathan flinches internally (and a tiny bit externally) as he swallows his mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. "Oh, um... I've actually already got a job with Sully next weekend. Sorry... about that..."

"Oh!" Sam says with a flash of surprise crossing his face, then a hint of annoyance. "I didn't... know. You didn't tell me."

"It must have slipped my mind. Sorry."

"Well... you have to tell me these things."

Nathan sighs and prepares himself for the impending lecture. He should have know this would happen. Sam doesn't really like him going off with Sully. Doesn't trust him all that much.

"When were you planning on telling me?" his older brother asks, a tic in his jaw.

"I mean... I was gonna tell you eventually."

"Eventually? By that, I'm assuming you were planning on sneaking out in the middle of the night and leaving me a note."

"Sam-"

"No, no, no. Save it. Apparently I don't qualify to receive the Nathan Drake newsletter when Victor does."

"Sam, come on! I didn't-"

"You didn't mean it like that, I know. You say it all the time."

Nathan bites his cheek and looks down at his tomato sauce covered hands. "Sam, please," he mutters.

"Please what?"

"Can you please accept that it was an honest mistake? You're my brother. Of course you qualify for the Nathan Drake newsletter. You are probably the only person that will ever automatically have his subscription renewed, okay? Sully is just another business partner. I know you don't like him that much, but you're going to have to deal with it."

Sam meets his brother's gaze over the forgotten pizza laying between them.

"I'm getting older, I'm growing up. I'm turning 18 in a couple of months. I'm not a kid anymore, I can make my own decisions. But we're always gonna be brothers. You come first. And if you don't like Sully, I get it, but you can't roll your eyes every time I say his name."

"But that's not his name!" Sam explodes. "You call him Sully!"

"Oh, god..." Nathan rubs a hand over his face. "It's a nickname!"

"And that's supposed to make it better?"

"That's what he told me to call him."

"What about the whole 'kid' thing, huh?"

"It's just... a nickname."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not hungry anymore. I'm gonna shower and then head to bed."

Nathan heaves a deep sigh and twists around in his seat. "Sam, come on!"

"Goodnight, Nathan!"

The younger Drake stares at his plate in silence after the bathroom door slams. He then glances at the messy desk shoved in the corner of the TV room. Nathan's journal rests on top of a pile of papers used for research on his and Sully's next job. Every time Sam walked by Nathan working, he would shake his head and roll his eyes whenever he thought his little brother wasn't looking. Nathan throws his napkin on the table in frustration and pushes his chair back. He might as well start packing for his trip. Sam probably won't want to talk until the morning.


	8. Panama

"Nate, do you want a window or an aisle seat?"

Nate looks up from his work at the sound of Sully's voice. A quick glance at his watch shows that he spent two hours combing through his and his mother's notes on Avery. Time flies... "Window, duh," he replies while stretching his arms over his head. "Why?"

"We're headed out to Rome in a week," Sully says, from the room across the hall. "I got us a job stealing an artifact from a rich schmuck for a rich schmuck."

"Oh. A week, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm assuming you're game, right?"

"Um... well..."

"Um well, what? You got a hot date or something?"

"Hot, yes. A date, not so much."

Sully finally appears in the doorway so he doesn't have to raise his voice. "Care to explain?"

"I, uh... I'm heading to Panama with Sam in a couple days."

"Ah. What for?"

"For... treasure. Pirate treasure to be exact. Captain Avery's 400 mill-"

"I don't want to know about the pirate, I want to know who or what you're up against. These quests of yours always ends up with you or Sam in jail or severely injured. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just..." Nate bites his lip and glances at the off white leather binding of his mother's work. He subconsciously covers it from Sully's view with this body. "I didn't want you worrying. You'd probably try to talk me out of it, and we'd get in a huge argument because I... I have to do this. It's important to me and Sam."

"Why, are you related to this pirate, too?"

The look on Sully's face conveys that it's a joke, but Nate still feels a sting. "You wouldn't understand," he bites back.

Sully sighs and raises his hands as a surrender. "Kid, something tells me I never will, but you've gotta tell me if you're planning on leaving town. I don't want to wake up to an empty bed on morning, wondering if you're in trouble somewhere."

Nate nods and hangs his head a little before saying, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know how to-"

"Don't apologize," Sully interrupts him. "Just tell me what your plan entails. And don't lie. I'll know if you lie."

"Well... Sam and I are staying in the modern day prison for better access to the old prison."

"And you're staying there... how?"

"...As inmates."

"Oh, Nate..."

"No, no, no, we thought this out, trust me. Sam's enlisted the help of a wealthy benefactor. He payed off the warden to let us into the old prison and out of the real prison when we're ready. It's a fool proof plan!"

"Who's the money?"

"Some guy named Rafe Adler. He's the son of some big business types. Sam and I met him once to go over details in person. He's a little..."

"Above it all?"

"Short tempered. But he doesn't seem like the backstabbing type."

"And you would know?"

"Sam trusts him."

"Oh, well if Sam trusts him..." Sully rolls his eyes.

"Sully, he's my brother. He wouldn't needlessly put me in danger."

"Mm hm. I'm going to need the addresses and phone numbers of the prison and the place you're going to be staying in after the heist. I need a way to check in on you and your brother in case something goes wrong."

"Sully, I'm an adult now. I don't-"

"Yes, you do. Especially when your brother is involved." With that said, Sully turns back into the hall.

Nate rolls his eyes once he's gone and goes back to his notes. As much as he appreciates someone watching his back, Sully can be infuriatingly protective when he wants to be. Nate's honestly surprised he didn't request to join the three of them in the prison. Sully's wary about letting strangers work with them, let alone some rich kid with too much time on his hands. He shares some of Sully's reservations about this Adler guy, but if Sam trusts him, that's enough for Nate.


	9. Close Call

Nathan wakes with a start, gulping down the sticky Panamanian air. The rickety cot creaks under him as he sits up. The sun hasn't risen yet, so why is he awake? A shuffling comes from the corner of his cell. Nathan's eyes strain in the dark to make out his cellmate sitting up on his cot as well. And he's staring directly at Nathan.

"Uh... Buenos días?" Nathan says hesitantly. His cellmate is a man of few words. His huge stature does all the talking.

The older man rises in silence and begins to cross the room towards him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy," Nathan starts, muscles tensing. "Didn't mean to... do whatever I did to piss you off."

The man continues to advance.

"Do I snore? I-Is it my morning breath? Can't exactly do anything about that since we're-"

"Cállate," murmurs the cellmate now standing over Nathan. "Hablas demasiado."

"Okay," he squeaks in response.

His cellmate reaches down to press a heavy hand down on his chest, forcing Nathan to lie flat again.

"H-Hey, I don't - ah!"

He cuts himself off as the man uses his free hand to force Nathan's hands above his head.

"Wait, wait, wait! I, uh, I can-"

"Cállate," he says again reaching for Nathan's midriff.

Nathan kicks his leg as far back towards his antagonist as possible. It doesn't reach its mark, but it causes him to flinch. It's enough of an opening for him to wrench an arm free.

But, once again, his cellmate re-restrains him to his cot. "No te muevas."

Nathan almost screams at the top of his lungs as the man starts toward him again. That's what Sam, Sully, and his mom had said to do. But the man's focus isn't on Nate's body. It's on the mattress.

His cellmate digs his hand between the mattress and the cot's frame. He removes a small canister, then releases Nathan and heads back to his side of the cell.

Oh. He was simply reaching around Nathan to get to his stache of weed. No biggie. Nathan sighs and rolls over until the guards wake the rest of the inmates at the crack of dawn.

After roll call, Nathan trots across the yard to find Sam. He finds him lighting up against the same wall he found him leaning on the previous few days. "Sam, you'll never guess what happened this morning."

"You saw a unicorn."

"I found out my cellmate staches his weed under my mattress."

"So? Mine hides his under the toilet seat. What's your point?"

"Did someone piss on your pillow last night? Jeeze..."

Sam rolls his eyes and stomps out his cigarette.

"Anyway, I woke up to him staring at me super intensely. He got up silently, and I started freaking out 'cause he's a big dude, you know..."

Nathan regals his brother with his tale, embellishing purely for entertainment purposes. Sam's eyes narrow as the story continues. It's sad that this is the most interesting thing that's happened all week. As it turns out, prison is boring. Nathan believes boredom is the worst torture anyone could put him through. That would change in the next couple of days.

The day passes as it did the last couple. At the end of the day, Nathan files into his cell, nodding at his cellmate. He does a double take when he gets a good look at the man's face. A shiner and a split lip.

"Oh god, que pasó?"

He just glares across the cell, locking eyes with Nathan. He has the look of a furious man with no way to do anything about it. The man lays back onto his cot and closes his one open eye to settle down for the night.

Nathan just shrugs and rolls over. Whoever beat him up must have had a death wish to have wanted to go head to head with that giant.

And the next morning, Sam does his best to hide his bruised knuckles.


	10. Heard 'Round the World

The sun's barely peeking through the drawn curtains when Nate's phone rings. It had been ringing for the good part of an hour, but Nate was out after a long night of travel and a completely necessary stop at a restaurant bar. He feels around the side table for his phone then groggily answers, "Yeah?"

"Nate, where are you? I've been trying to reach you for over an hour now." Sully sounds worried. 

"Um, Costa Rica. Why? What's wrong?"

"Turn on the TV."

"Okay..." He fumbles for the remote and presses the on button. The default channel is all about the hotel. "What do you want me to see?"

"Find a news channel."

"Which one?"

"Any of them."

He wonders why Sully doesn't just tell him, but he understands once he sees the breaking story. Sully wanted him to see it himself. Nate wouldn't have believed him if he hadn't seen it himself. "Oh," is all Nate can say. It takes a few seconds to process the image of the Twin Towers burning. He blinks and quickly asks, "Sully, where are you?"

"I'm okay, kid. I'm in France. I knew you were in New York earlier this week. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He pauses for a breath. He hasn't taken his eyes off the screen. Apparently two planes purposefully flew into them. Nate shakes his head in disbelief. He was in New York for work just last night.

"Send me your hotel address. I want to see you," Sully says with an unidentifiable lilt to his voice.

"Of course. It's been a while since we've caught up, anyway."

"Yeah. See you soon, kid."

That evening, Nate waits for Sully at the airport. He and Sully had to make a lot of backroom deals on order to get Sully's plane off the ground. The airport is eerily empty. Nate smiles and waves when he spots Sully outside the baggage claim. The first thing Sully does is give him a huge, suffocating bear hug. "I was so worried," he whispers.

Despite the general gloomy atmosphere of the day, Nate smiles and squeezes even harder before stepping back and saying, "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"I don't doubt it, kid, but next time, answer your phone the first time. I didn't know if you'd left New York yet, so when you didn't answer, I assumed... you..." He sighs tiredly. "Goddamn it, Nate. Don't ever make me worry like that again." To someone who doesn't know him, Sully looks pissed, but Nate knows him well enough to know it's just masking his fear.

"I promise, Sully."

His face softens as he pats Nate's back. "Let's go get a couple of beers. I'm parched."

"There's a restaurant with a bar not far from the hotel. The waitresses are cute. One gave me her number."

"Did you call her?"

"Let's just say I'm not at liberty to say," Nate says with an arched eyebrow.

Sully laughs. "I've taught you well."

"I don't think it has anything to do with you, old man. It's my natural charm."

"Oh, sure." He rolls his eyes. "Just do me a favor and talk me up to one of her friends," he says, throwing an arm across Nate's shoulders.


End file.
